It was Jess, and she was close by and getting closer with each bark. My heart suddenly felt like it had swollen to twice its normal size and was now trying to punch its way out of my ribcage.
I scrambled up on to the ledge below the window and looked between the bars. As I said, the bunker was half sunk in the ground so that the opening was only perhaps twenty centimetres above the grass. I saw Jess and Saga and then a figure running after them, awkwardly yanking on a gas mask as they got close to the bunker. Saga was still held on a rope, but Jess was bounding across the grass towards me trailing her own long length of rope behind her. She must have caught the scent of me and pulled free of the hand holding her.
Jess! I shouted, and jammed my hand out of the window, reaching for her, my shoulder wedged between the narrow bars. Jess! Good girl!
The chasing Con managed to stamp on the end of the trailing rope and bring Jess to a sudden brutal halt. She lost her footing and yelped as she was yanked over onto the ground. The Con scrabbled for the rope and then fell and landed in a sitting position, pulling Jess towards them.
Hey, I shouted, then felt a hand on my shoulder, pulling me back.
Quarantine, said Brand, peering over my head. Can’t let the dog touch you or they’d have to do something to it to stop it spreading whatever infection you might be carrying.
The Con pulled Jess back into their arms and sat there. He or she wore a sort of glove on one hand that seemed twisted in on itself, as if the leather covered an injury, though they seemed to pay it no mind. The blank glass eyes of the mask seemed to be pointed at me, not the dog.
Don’t worry, shouted Brand. The dog must have smelled me.
There’s no reason for them to find out you know the dog already, he said very quietly, for my ears only. That’ll just raise more questions than we have comfortable answers for.
The gas mask just watched us. Jess seemed to calm down a bit, but kept trying to twist in the Con’s arms and find her way to me.
Although I hated the way Jess had been yanked off her feet by the rope, what Brand said made sense. And I could see the Con actually had kind hands and was trying to calm the dog and not hurt her.
They might have shot the dog if they thought it had touched us, said Brand, as if he had heard my thoughts.
So I had to satisfy myself by staring at Jess and just being pleased and amazed that after all these miles she was, as I had hoped against hope for, at the end of my journey.
The Con stood up and stared at me. I couldn’t tell whether it was a friendly or a hostile look. The mask made it impossible to read: the glass just reflected the gunmetal sky overhead and gave nothing away.
Jess whined and barked again, tugging at the rope. The Con reached down and calmed her with hands that were, again, kind and tuned to the way a dog likes to be touched. And then abruptly turned away.
It was in the turn that I made my decision. Looking back on it now, I know I made it for some of the right reasons, and all the wrong ones. The first was the way the Con had handled Jess after the initial violence of bringing her up short. They had not been the actions of someone who was cruel to animals. They were the opposite, and Jess had responded, as if she too trusted the Con in some way.
The second reason was that as the Con turned, a thick braided pigtail swung behind her head in a way that reminded me immediately of Bar.
I figured, wrongly, that a woman would be kinder and more understanding.
The third reason was that if there were wolves out there, as the Cons believed, then Jip and the horses would not have much of a chance against them, tied and hobbled as they were, even for one night.
All sorts of bad things flowed from that decision, but I still think it was the right one to make, given what I knew at the time.
Hey, I shouted. Hey you!
The Con stopped but didn’t turn.
I have a dog too, I shouted. And horses. They’re out there, tied up. Waiting for me to come and get them.
Griz, said Brand, his voice deepening to a warning growl.
If I tell you where to get them, can you fetch them? I said, shrugging off the hand that had gripped my arm. They’re not far. But they’re not safe alone.
Griz, hissed Brand. Don’t—
They’re tied, I said. They can’t run or fight if anything comes for them. And the dog will starve or die of thirst if it’s left.
If they find the map, said Brand.
They will, I said, turning to hide my mouth, as if the gas mask could read my lips even if I spoke low, which I did. But I can’t help that. I told you. What goes for Jess goes for Jip. They’re family. And even if they weren’t, what kind of person leaves an animal defenceless and without food?
A person who wants to stay alive, he said, his face grim. These Cons do not have a sense of humour. And the god they like seems to be the unforgiving kind.
The Con turned and cocked her head at me.
Please, I said.
That’s Tertia, said Brand.
Tertia, I said. I’m Griz. I can see you like dogs. I can see you have the way of them. Please save my dog, and you can have the horses.
Tertia stared at me some more.
You think she’s going to be all friendly just because she’s not a man, said Brand quietly. Again, irritatingly it was like he knew what I was thinking. Bad mistake.
Jess whined and tugged the rope, straining towards me.
The woman Tertia stood there like a statue. I couldn’t tell what she was deciding. She was so still that I couldn’t even be sure she was thinking about what I had said at all.
I once asked why she wasn’t kept with the breeders, said Brand. They said she was too hard. Like a cold and rocky cliff that life can’t cling to was what they actually said. She’s tough enough, that’s for sure, but she does have a thing about Saga. And now I guess she’s taken to the other dog as well.
And he turned away from the window and sat on the ledge, looking back into the room.
The one you stole, I said. Her name is Jess.
You’re going to get us killed, he said.
My dog, I said. My responsibility.
My neck though, he said. Fair warning. I like it as it is, uncut and unbroken. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep it that way.
All’s fair in love and war, I said.
What? he said.
Something I read, I said. Means you do what you must. I just did what I had to.
And then I turned back to Tertia, and told her where I had left Jip and the horses, describing the lonely pine and its fallen brothers and sisters.
I still didn’t know if she was going to do anything about it, but she listened and then abruptly turned away, pulling the two dogs behind her, and dropped out of sight over the edge of the low slope towards the settlement.
None of what you just did changes anything, said Brand. They’re still going to wait the quarantine out, and by then they’ll have figured you’re a girl, and then they’ll make you a breeder. You changed nothing and all you did was put us in danger.
I saved my dog, I said. And—
I cut myself off before I said John Dark’s horses. John Dark had been a good thing and I had no wish to share anything good with this thief. It would be like staining a clean memory the next time he talked about it.
And my horses, I said. I saved my horses.
You really think a dog’s life is worth a human’s? he said.
A life’s a life, I said. And those lives were in my care.
You’re crazy, he said.
I know what I am, I said. And I know what you are too.
And what’s that? he said.
Someone who doesn’t know what they are, I said. Someone who lies, even to themselves. A thief who thinks he’s not a bad man.
He looked at me then, eyes flaring flat and cold as iceblink.
You think you’re a hero because you did one good thing, because you saved your sisters? I said. Maybe you were then. But now? Thieving, lying, stealing people’s dogs?<
br />
I found I wanted to hit him too. Instead I spat on the floor.
Heroes aren’t for ever, I said. You shit on your past, you don’t stay shiny.
I think I preferred you when you were a boy, he said.
No, you didn’t, I said.
I looked back up at him, right in the eye.
See? You don’t know the first damn thing about yourself.
Chapter 36
A reunion betrayed
All the lies came home at first light. And they didn’t come home to roost like gentle doves, they came home like scavenging birds of prey, ripping and tearing and leaving nothing but the bones.
Brand and I had not spoken again as the night came on. I know he had watched me waiting at the window, straining my eyes trying to see if anyone had in fact gone to get Jip and the horses. When full black erased everything but the stars and a glimmer down in the settlement that might have been lamplight or a kitchen fire, I remained there, listening instead, ears reaching out into the dark for what I could no longer see.
But a punishing rain came on early and carried on through the night, and I heard and saw nothing other than the downpour. I used the old steel toilet in the end cell and tried not to feel self-conscious about the noises Brand must have heard, then I swilled a bucket of water down it to make it go away, went back to a cell Brand could not look into from his and slept, surprisingly deeply and dream-free.
It was the last good sleep I had. My nights nowadays are torn and uncomfortable things, and though I do doze off at some stage towards mornings, I wake feeling more tired than I was the day before, as if I have spent the dreamtime running and running, but always ending up awake back in these four walls, with a barred slit for a window.
Maybe fate knew what was coming and gave me one last good night’s sleep out of pity.
I woke to the sound of metal hitting metal in a fast and insistent rattle. I stumbled out of my cell and blinked at the figures standing behind the bars at the end of the hall. Brand emerged from the door across the way and as he did so the tallest figure stopped rattling the pistol barrel between the bars, which was the source of the noise that had woken us.
I thought they looked like judges, standing side by side, shoulder to shoulder behind the bars, their faces hidden by masks that—this close up—I could see were all different and patched with tape or stitched leather. Their voices were muffled but easily understandable. There were four of them—three tall ones—and the shorter figure of Tertia.
The next shortest figure was in the middle of the other two men, but he was clearly in charge. Despite the mask there was a kind of energy coming off him like the buzz in the beehives back in the ruined stadium a lifetime ago.
He held out the map.
Even as I saw it and tried to ready myself for what might be coming, I felt a strong sense of release, because if they had the map that meant Jip had been rescued.
You, said the man with the map, pointing at me.
My name’s Griz, I said, trying to ignore the black metal gun now hanging from his hand, pointing at the floor.
Don’t mess with him, said Brand from behind me, speaking low, for my ears only. That’s Ellis. He’s the father.
Ellis shook the map at me.
Where did you get this? he said.
I found it, I said.
Where? he said. Where did you find it?
His voice sounded like he was talking to a child who was either being stupid or impolite on purpose. Like him it was short and taut, like it might snap into something much louder and nastier at any moment.
On a boat, I said. He actually shuddered visibly with impatience.
Where? he said.
One of the figures beside him spoke. Despite being taller than him, the voice surprised me by being female.
Who was on the boat? said the woman. Who was on the boat and what did you do to them?
There was no one on the boat, I said.
And as I said it, I made a very strong effort not to look at Brand, whose eyes I could feel burning holes in the side of my face. His silence seemed to me to be as loud as any shout. I hoped they couldn’t hear it too, or begin to wonder why the normally voluble pirate was saying nothing.
It was deserted, I said. This much was true. I had after all found the map on a deserted boat. That made the lie easier to tell. I wasn’t having to make a story out of nothing. I had a truth to build on.
There was no one aboard, I said.
Liar, spat the woman, taking a step towards me as if the sudden rage that fuelled her might let her walk right through the metal bars that separated us in order to grab me and shake me.
Let him speak, said Ellis. Let him say what else he wants to tell us.
The calmness in his voice was small and hateful.
I found I had nothing to say.
They stared at me.
He’s not a boy. He’s a girl.
The silence broken by a familiar voice.
But it wasn’t Brand’s.
It was the girl. It was Tertia.
She lifted her mask off her face with her twisted glove-hand and glared at me.
My world split in two.
I had never seen this woman before. And I had known her all my life.
I had never seen the woman she was, but the girl she had once been was as much a part of me as my heart. In fact she was the deepest crack in that heart—the best-beloved broken bit we all lived with.
I had expected to be betrayed by Brand.
I never expected to be betrayed by my own dead sister.
And the hatred in her eyes widened that crack in my heart and tore me in two, dropping me to my knees so unexpectedly and so brutally that it was only Brand catching me that stopped me falling further.
Tertia! snapped Ellis. Put your mask on now!
Joy just stood and glared at me, the hostility and fury in her eyes somehow locking us together in an endless unbreakable moment. I couldn’t breathe. I don’t think she could either.
But how—? was all I could say.
They sold me, she said.
I didn’t know what she meant. Who she meant. I stumbled to my feet and stepped towards her, standing there on the other side of the bars.
They sold me to have a quiet life, she said. For the rest of you.
Who? I said.
She hit me then. Like the question I had asked was too big to answer. Her gloved fist a tight knot of bone and skin that came through the gap in the bars and split my lip and left the taste of blood in my mouth. The taste surprised me more than the impact knocked me backwards. A blow is a blow, but blood makes it personal.
Why didn’t you come earlier? she said, hard eyes shiny with tears like wet steel. You were my sister. You were a part of me. But you all let me go and be brought to this flat land…
Tertia! shouted Ellis. Your mask! Or by God I will—
The man between Ellis and Joy grabbed the mask and jammed it back over her face. We never heard what Ellis was going to do by his god or anything else. He just snapped his fingers and spluttered at her instead, like he was choking on a fury all of his own.
Take off that glove and burn it! he snarled. If you weren’t wearing it, I’d lock you in quarantine too, you stupid little bitch! Now get out before I maim your other damned hand.
I am sure it was the prospect of being made to be any closer to me that made her peel off her glove and stumble away up the stairs, as much as the vicious threat.
It got bad then.
I don’t remember the right order of things, because I was sleepwalking in shock. But this is the patchwork I do recall. They made me strip. They wanted to check that I was not a boy. It wasn’t the undressing or the way they were demonstrating their power over me, making me take my clothes down so they could see me that I minded—I have swum naked with my whole family and the Lewismen too without giving it much of a thought. They’re just bodies after all. It was the fact that the men turned away while the woman checked me that
made it horrible. As if my body was a dirty thing they should not be made to see. I don’t know if Brand stole a look, because he was behind me, but being a thief I expect he did.
Then they made me sit on a chair and face them through the bars and tell them about the map and how I’d found it. I told the story again and again, the words coming haltingly over my split and puffy lip, and the more they asked the more real it became in my head, perhaps because I was building my lie on the truth of stealing from Brand’s boat, the Falki. I just added two things to the story. I told them I had found the boat washed up next to a pier like the one I had moored the Sweethope to in Blackpool. I told them I thought something must have happened at sea, because the sails were torn but still raised, and the anchors had not been dropped.
And when they asked me what had happened to the three people who they said had crewed the boat, I told them I did not know but that if they had made it ashore it might be that the wolves had got them, since that stretch of coast was teeming with them. I told them this because at that point I was still under the illusion that I might somehow escape and that it would be good if they were as afraid of the mainland behind them as they were of the sea in front of them. Then I did not know I was going to be where I am now, writing this. Trapped. Hopeless. And never going home again.
And after that they abruptly put me where I am now. In the end cell. And they closed the door until it locked itself shut.
I didn’t know they were going to close the door until they did. I shouted when I saw it about to happen, and I heard Brand’s voice drown mine as he too tried to stop them.
But the tiny click of the lock closing me in drowned us both. Maybe it was so loud because we knew it had no key to open it again.
I remember a jumble of voices after that, muffled by the heavy steel door. The gist was that they had to keep us quarantined, but they couldn’t have Brand and I locked in together in case we fucked.
They didn’t use that word. They said “bred”. Somehow the way they said it stained the day much darker than an honest swear word would have done.
Brand’s protests that the door was without a key were met with assurances that once the quarantine was up they would find a way to get me out, even if it meant knocking a hole in the wall.
A Boy and His Dog at the End of the World Page 29
